Losing My Mind
by TigerStripe is Numbuh 6.13
Summary: Full Summary Inside.Nigel's left Cleveland for London for his studies.However,when reports of a blonde haired, brown eyed madwoman escaping the Rutledge Asylum reach him, he's got a gut feeling he knows who that madwoman is...


**BLARGHLARGH. I dunno what this is about. All I know is that it's related to KND because Rachel's in it, and I was thinking about American McGee's Alice and Alice: Madness Returns while writing, eating Oreos, and cultivating mushrooms. Go figure.**

**I do not own KND, or AMR. If I did, KND would still be running now and I would've employed every person I've met on the KND Fanfiction Archives for the vital elements of the story. Now shoo and read the story. Oh yeah, BTW, Nigel is 20 here, and Rachel is 19 turning 20. Everyone else is either 19 or 20, take your pick.**

**This will contain a lot of AMA and AMR references, so don't be confuzzled :3 I was in the mood to write. Be prepared in case of OOCness. I have no idea whether or not Rachel and Nigel are OOC here… And the song is called "Still Doll". I'm using the English translation. It's from the anime Vampire Knight.**

* * *

**Losing My Mind**

AU Oneshot, Nigel's POV. Nigel has been detached from his friends in Cleveland for so long, having moved to London to continue his studies. However, when news reports reach him, telling of a blonde haired, brown eyed woman escaping from Rutledge Asylum, he's got a gut feeling that he knows who she is.

Genre: Drama/Tragedy

Nigel U./Numbuh 1 & Rachel mK./Numbuh 362

* * *

_Hi Miss Alice,_

_What kind of dreams_

_Do you see_

_With your eyes of glass?_

_Do they fascinate you?_

* * *

I missed them.

It had been exactly eight years since I last saw them. My tight-knit group of friends, who I spent twelve years of my life with. Who I spent my childhood with. My pure, untainted childhood.

I sighed, taking a bite out of my toast. I was twelve when I last saw them, a group of eight children with such opposite and like personalities that it might have seemed unbelievable that we were the closest of friends.

_Ring! Ring!_

My blue eyes drifted over to the door, where the morning's newspaper had just arrived. Huh. Guess ol' Jimmy, the mailboy, had come early today, which was strange, considering I never expected him at six o'clock in the morning. He usually arrived at around seven thirty to eight o'clock here.

_I'll get it later, _I decided, standing up and finishing off my cup of coffee. _I've got a bit of memory hunting to do._

A few minutes later, I found myself flipping the pages of a scrapbook I had not seen in eight years, on my sofa. A scrapbook that had exactly eight duplicates, seven of them back in Cleveland, Virginia, my hometown. I felt a tear come to my eye as I turned the pages.

The first page had me, Nigel Uno. My theme back then used to be spies and secret agents, so the two pages about me were decorated with sunglasses, spies in thick trench coats, etcetera. There was a mug shot – I chuckled, recalling that we used to fight over calling them head shots or mug shots – of me, and beside that, some random statistics that we made up for fun.

"Name, Nigel Uno." I read slowly, chuckling at the random but true facts. "Aliya- hey, we misspelled alias – alias, Numbuh 1. Heh heh." So many misspellings, but I doubt that we did it by accident. I think we always did it on purpose, as symbolism of our friendship.

On the page to the right of that info page, there were various photos of me, in different places and different ages. There was one of me at age seven, clocking one of my friends with a clock – we thought it would be funny – and another one of me at age ten with a tubby boy, rushing down a hill on a wagon.

"We did the craziest things." I chuckled, turning the page.

The second page had my closest friend, Hoagie Gilligan. He was an aspiring pilot – which will explain to you why his pages were filled with aerial vehicles. He always dreams of flying and beating that Hispanic boy whose name I've forgotten. However, I do remember he called himself The Kid. I laughed as I saw his photos; one of them had him holding a daisy to another of our friends on Valentine's Day. Oh, the laughs we got out of that one.

I turned it again, and nearly keeled backwards at the explosion of… rainbows. This was the page of my Japanese friend, Kuki Sanban. She loved those little toys called Rainbow Monkeys to the end, so there were a lot of Rainbow Monkey stickers all over her page. I let out a snort-giggle as I saw her picture at age nine beside a boy named Wally Beatles, which she dressed up in a cat costume.

Wally also just happened to be the one on the next page. He was a fighter, and not very intelligent. Wait, that was an understatement. He was as dumb as a post – he thought two and two equaled pizza, for gosh's sakes – but I reckon that he might've gotten smarter with Kuki around to impress. Plus, I think I can recall him getting all worked up over the time The Kid gave Kuki an ice cream cone.

Abby Lincoln was the one on the next page. Decked out in a red cap and a calm and collected smile, she used to be my stress ball – out of the first five that I mentioned, she was the one who remained calm in everything, the one who tells me that it's only raining when Hoagie's experiments make household junk fly all over the place. Her page was decked out in… well, random stuff that she liked, but that was Abby for you.

"Oh guys…" I sighed. Us five, we were the main team. The quintet of best friends who always stuck with each other, no matter what happened, no matter what didn't happen. "I hope you didn't change."

The next page made me pale slightly. Fanny Fulbright, the hotheaded Irish girl from across the street. While I didn't consider her a best friend, she was still a close friend, and usually I came to terms with her even if she had that stupid prejudice against us boys. Her page was decked out in Irish symbols.

The page right after that showed Patton Drilovsky, a hasty and impatient Polish boy who seemed to get on Fanny's nerves a lot. They usually argued, as far as I can remember, to the point that the only way to get them to stop is to dunk water on top of their 'hot' heads – hey, geddit? Water on 'hot' heads, cause they're angry? Ha ha ha…

Great, now I sound like Hoagie. He's the one who cracks corny jokes like that one. Oh yeah, Patton's page was decked out with snow. Don't ask me why.

It was the final page that made me pause and let the tears leak out. Rachel McKenzie, our 'Supreme Leader'. She was the one who broke up fights, who commanded us all to do stuff that didn't endanger our health, and the one who frequently groaned whenever we do stuff that endanger our health anyway. And she was also my childhood crush.

"Rachel…" One of my hands clenched a pillow on the sofa. Rachel was the toughest one in our group, even tougher than Fanny. I've never seen her cry. Never ever. Even when she thought her little brother Harvey was going to die after eating a dandelion, she didn't cry. She was brave, and she was strong.

Unlike me, who broke down the moment I realized I had to move to London.

I shut the scrapbook. I had had enough of the memory reliving. It hurt too much. When I turned twelve, my parents told me we would be moving to London for my studies. I disagreed with them; I fought, I kicked, I _bit, _but they would not relent. We would be moving to London a few months after I turned twelve. Three months exactly.

Three months to tell my friends goodbye.

They all took it harsh. Even Fanny, our tough little Irish girl, had bit her lip and wiped away the tears from her eyes. Our group was always tight-knit; we never separated, except in school when we had to. Other than that, we were always playing together, doing homework together, and everything else.

Suddenly, I remembered that the newspaper was sitting on my welcome mat, waiting to be read. Sighing, I walked over and picked it up, only for the headlines to capture my interest.

" 'Madwoman on the Loose'?" I chuckled. The Illustrated London News were always writing news about really random topics, in my opinion. The last issue had them ranting about a white rabbit escaping from the local pet store. "This is a must read." I settled back onto the sofa, turning the page to read the story.

" 'Reports have reached us that the Rutledge Private Clinic and Asylum of Oxford – not the London branch - have once again lost another inmate.' " At this, I chuckled once more. "What kind of asylum lets its insane people run free? 'And, our dear readers, we are afraid this madwoman is one of the far gone ones.' "

My eyes narrowed as I read, " 'According to her files at Rutledge, this young lady was born in Cleveland, Virginia, and was part of a family with her younger brother. However, additional notes say that her family had perished in a terrible fire when they moved to Oxford, with her as the only survivor at age fourteen.' Poor girl," I mused, turning the page. " 'As of recent news, we have come to determine that the young lady is now in London, our homeland. If you ever see a blonde haired woman with brown eyes lurking about with a kitchen knife, please call your local police.' "

"…" I stood up and headed for my room. I needed a change in clothes if I were to hunt her down.

* * *

_Again,_

_My heart is torn_

_And bleeding._

_I mend it but_

_My memories_

_Pierce the opening…_

* * *

I roamed London, careful not to act suspicious. But then again, I was bald. As bald as an egg. I have no idea why, but at the age of seven I started losing my hair. Either way my friends didn't care, so being bald was basically my trademark now. Oh yeah, plus, I wear sunglasses. That was Nigel Uno's look.

"Good morning, Mr. Uno!" I looked down and smiled. It was little Annie, a girl that usually wandered the streets of London for no reason at all. How she knows my name is a mystery, but, I tell you, Annie was always a mystery. She knew things others didn't, and she popped up in the weirdest places. She knew the name of everyone in London – don't ask me how she knows, she's Annie.

"Good morning, Annie. Where are you off to this time?" I noticed for the first time the old ragged bunny toy she was holding in her arms. It looked oddly familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

Annie grinned. "Annie's off to give this rabbit to the blonde miss living at 13th street. Poor thing was tattered, and Annie knows how to fix stuffed toys because she has lots of needles and thread at home to fix stuff toys."

"13th street?" I knew of that place. No one lived there, and only one house was there. An old, rickety Victorian home, about to collapse in on itself if another storm came and blew by. If someone was living there, then it meant it was someone with something to hide. And Annie did say blonde miss… "Can I come and meet the blonde miss too, Annie?"

"Annie's not sure if you can." Annie said thoughtfully. "Annie means, blonde miss is trayma… tarma… trauta…"

I ventured, "Traumatized?"

"Yeah!" Annie nodded vigorously. "Blonde miss is pretty, and Annie is her only friend here. Only Annie knows what to talk about, and Annie is the one who goes out and buys food for her! Oh, Annie realized something," At this she tugged on my sleeve. "Mr. Uno can come with Annie if she brings gift for blonde miss. Got a gift?"

"Uh…" I dug into my pockets, and… whaddaya know? I found two gold lockets inside. One of them was mine, and the other was a duplicate, meant to be given to Rachel when I managed to come back to Cleveland. I'd give this one to the 'blonde miss'; I'd get another duplicate later for Rachel. "Here, I've got one."

Annie's eyes sparkled. "Oh, Mr. Uno, Annie's now really sure blonde miss will like you! Come now, Annie thinks she is waiting for her stuffed bunny." And with that, Annie led me by the hand to 13th street, not minding the stares that we got. Oh well; people assume that Annie's my daughter anyway; she hangs around me a lot. I'm considering adopting the little girl.

* * *

_Hi Miss Alice,_

_To whom_

_Are you throwing your love to_

_With your fruit like lips?_

_Does it make you sad?_

* * *

I felt my insides freeze up as we reached the old Victorian home. It looked scarier than ever, with dead trees swaying in the backyard and front yard, and there was just the subtle feeling that there was a ghost living in this old home. The only trace that someone was currently living there was the small candle sitting by the window, flickering gently.

"Come, Mr. Uno." Annie insisted, pushing open the creaky gate. It sent shivers down my spine as I clutched the locket in my hand. "Annie knows blonde miss will like you."

Once we neared the front door, Annie pushed it open with a creak, the dust falling all over me. I coughed, swatting away the dust. "Geez Annie, whoever lives here doesn't do spring cleaning."

"Annie helps clean inside only for living purposes." Annie said seriously. "Outside is left untouched. Blonde miss have no need for fancy fru fru decorations outside."

_Huh… sounds like something Rachel would've said. _I said silently to myself, watching as Annie called, "Blonde miss! Annie has fixed your rabbit! And Annie brought home a friend!"

"A friend?" A voice croaked as the door suddenly swung closed on its own accord. I blinked, then a split second later, I had a kitchen knife to my throat. "Such a long time since I had a friend over for tea, Annie. Not everyone is a friend nowadays in London."

I gasped. This wasn't the first time a knife has been held to my throat, but this was a new experience. It was a woman holding the kitchen knife against my neck, not a man who was a snatcher. Annie let out a startled squeak, pleading, "Blonde miss, please do not attack Mr. Uno! He is Annie's good friend!"

"Mr. Uno?" I swear I heard a note of surprise and resentment in the woman's tone as she withdrew her knife. I rubbed my neck, relieved that I was still alive, as she muttered, "It's familiar, but also unfamiliar."

Annie looked relieved. "Is Mr. Uno alright? Is bald head still shiny?"

"Eeeh, Annie, don't remind me." I groaned as the woman raised her gaze to stare at my bald head. I took that moment to observe her appearance.

She looked slim and pale, but was healthy enough to hold a knife to my throat. Long, unkempt blonde hair tumbled past her shoulders, part of it hanging over her right eye and hiding it from view. The place was dim, but I could make out the dark shadows under her eyes, which meant she was lacking sleep. She was wearing an orange dress with short puffy sleeves, and black boots and black stockings, and … an apron? Stained with blood, no less, as I noted from her kitchen knife. I touched my neck, but didn't feel any blood oozing. So where had the blood come from.

She must have seen my look, because she gave a low chuckle that seemed awfully familiar. "Oh, this blood didn't come from you, Mr. Uno. It would be hard to explain where I got it, so don't ask."

"I see." I said in a low voice. "Mind getting some light into this place? I'm going to become as blind as a bat if this place remains dark."

Annie pointed to the room at the far end, where light seemed to shine. "There's light over there, Mr. Uno. Blonde miss was making tea for Annie and her."

"… Tea?" I asked incredulously.

The woman laughed. I can't take it anymore; it was so familiar, and it made me long for Cleveland again. "I've gotten accustomed to tea, Mr. Uno. Care to join us?"

"I, uh, er, sure." I babbled as the two led me towards the 'kitchen' – hey, if that was where they had tea, I'm gonna say that it's a kitchen. Turns out, it really was a kitchen. It was bright and cheery there, compared to the exterior of the home. "Wow. I guess you can't judge a book by its cover unless you read it yourself."

"Oh boy! Tea! Annie loves tea!" Annie jumped onto a chair, giggling as the blonde lady took out cups from the cupboard and set them up in front of her. I took a seat as well as she poured tea from an elegant looking teapot. Smiling, I took a sip, and discovered that it was pretty tasty.

Annie devoured her cup as I said, "Wow miss, you make delicious tea."

"I learned from a good British friend of mine." That should have been my first clue. She sighed, parting her hair for a bit, allowing me to see her brown eyes, forever narrowed into a glare. That should have been my second clue.

"Oh?" I took another sip. "He or she sounds pretty nice to teach you about tea."

She sighed again. "He left me and my other friends for London for his studies." My eyes slowly widened behind my sunglasses. "He said goodbye, but it still hurts. That's why I told my family to move to Oxford, but our house burned down soon after."

"What happened?" I drained my cup, trying to calm myself down. I had long before deduced that this was the blonde madwoman in the newspaper, but she seemed like so much more that I had to know more of her story.

The woman sighed as she poured Annie more tea. "I was traumatized, of course. After I got my burns treated," At this she showed me the nasty looking burn on her shoulder. "I was moved to the Oxford branch of Rutledge Asylum, where I was admitted. It was probably because I was ranting about a centaur killing my brother."

"A centaur?" At this I had to snicker. "Really?"

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I was fourteen, but childish enough to believe that centaurs existed. However, I did get out of my depression when I turned eighteen, and I was released. A month later, I returned, requesting more treatment, because I was being plagued by more nightmares that wracked my nerves too much. So they took me in as a clinic patient, but not an asylum inmate, which I am thankful for."

"Did you see the newspaper?" I asked casually, nudging my cup to her teapot.

She nodded, pouring more tea. "I saw them. Poor writers, thinking I'm a madwoman. No, I passed that stage a year ago. I'm just being plagued by nightmares of me finally killing my best friends out of madness."

"Er… care to tell me about your friends?" I asked cautiously.

She shook her head as tears began to pool in her eyes. "I-I can't. I-it hurts too much, talking about Patton, Fanny, Hoagie, Abby, Kuki, Wally…"

"…!" That was the final puzzle piece. Everything had fallen into place as I silently gaped at her – Rachel T. McKenzie – like a fish out of water. Annie looked at Rachel and me back and forth before silently pouring another cup of tea and drinking it. I swear I saw her eyes twinkle, as if she knew something I didn't.

Rachel stared at me. "… What, Mr. Uno? Why are you staring at me like that?"

"Rachel…" I saw her stiffen like a board. I stood up, taking out the locket. "Your name… it's Rachel T. McKenzie, isn't it? You're from Cleveland, Virginia."

Everything happened so fast, I can't recount them all. I can only recall the table upturning, making Annie pout as the tea spilled and the teapot and teacups slid off and shattered into millions of pieces, and the knife once again against my throat.

"You lie!" She hissed, her glare venomous, but with tears leaking through the sides. Her brown gaze bore into me, asking, _Who are you? How do you know?_

I swallowed before replying, "Such immediate denial, Miss McKenzie. Your brother was named Harvey, was he not?"

"…" The knife clattered to the floor.

Taking this as a good sign, I continued. "You used to live in Cleveland, Virginia, and made friends with seven kids on that street. Hoagie Gilligan," She flinched. "Abby Lincoln," She bit her lip. "Kuki Sanban," Now she looked terrified. "Wally Beatles," I could almost feel her heart pounding. "Patton Drilovsky," Her face grew frustrated. "Fanny Fulbright," Her gaze hardened. "And finally, the last one, Nigel-"

"SHUT UP!" She roared, picking up the knife and pressing the tip against my chest. Both of us breathed heavily as Annie simply walked out to get a broom and dustpan to clean the mess. "Shut up, shut up, shut up! You know nothing about me, you bald headed, sunglasses-wearing smartarse! You're making everything up! You're trying to take me, return me to the asylum I practically lived in! You're a spy! One move and I'll drive this through your chest!"

I shook my head, a few tears escaping. This wasn't Rachel. This was a lonely young woman who had seen too much in one lifetime. "Rachel, this isn't you. I know it isn't."

"Shut up! You don't know me!" Rachel screeched, increasing the pressure a bit.

I sweated profusely, the knife's sharp tip almost impaling my chest. "But I do, Rachel. I'm Nigel Uno, one of your childhood friends. I was the one who left Cleveland for London for his studies, don't you recognize me?"

"You're… you're lying." As much as she wanted to believe it, I could see she was fighting a losing battle. She wanted to believe, yet didn't want to believe until she remembered everything. "I… I lost many of my memories after I was incarcerated in Rutledge… how should I believe you?"

"You must." I stated calmly. At least, calmly enough for a man who was on the edge of life or death. "You have to trust me."

Rachel bit her lip, unsure, but then something hardened her resolve as she raised her knife high, making it glint in the light of the kitchen's fluorescent lamp. I knew I hadn't come through to her, so instead I started praying to whoever it was that judged my whole earthly life and decided whether I go to heaven or hell to give me a good place in heaven or purgatory because I know I wouldn't end up in hell.

Now, this next part was what saved my life. If I had said it a few moments later, I would be dead and in heaven now. Rachel's knife came crashing down on my chest as I started singing, "_Hi Miss Alice,…_"

Rachel's eyes widened, her knife hovering precariously over my heart. It was a song I knew Rachel loved singing as a child. Encouraged, I continued to sing. "_What kinds of dreams do you see with your eyes of glass? Do they fascinate you?"_

"Stop it…" Rachel said in a low voice. Annie whistled as she swept up the remains of the teapot.

"_Again, my heart is torn and bleeding," _I sang, countering Rachel. I took hold of her wrist and made her release the knife. _"I mend it but my memories pierce the openings."_

Rachel begged, "Please, stop it." Her tone was pleading as she clutched her head. I could only assume that the memories were coming back to her, the ones she claimed to have lost within the walls of Rutledge Asylum.

But I didn't relent. I was determined to get my Rachel back. _"Hi Miss Alice… to whom are you throwing love to with your fruit like lips? Does it make you sad?_" It was like I was questioning Rachel herself, as she stepped backwards, step by step, while I advanced, step by step.

"Please, stop." Rachel was practically begging now. Her expression was pained, and I felt pity for her. But, she had to come back. This knife wielding menace had to leave, even if she made delicious tea.

"_The heat of my tongue that let me speak has already cooled," _I sang, cornering Rachel. She started looking more like the twelve-year old blonde that I had left in Cleveland as she whimpered, staring at me with tearful eyes. So she was starting to remember. I pressed my forehead against hers, singing softly, "_And I can't sing songs of love anymore…"_

"Ni… Nigel…" Her memories were coming back. I felt like crying with joy, but not without finishing the song. The last verse might be the catalyst, so I gazed straight at her before whispering, _"Still, you do not answer." _And with that, I pressed my lips against hers.

I felt the shudder that vibrated through Rachel's body as I parted with her, staring at her. "Rachel T. McKenzie, do you remember me?"

"…" Rachel did not reply at first, so I looked down. Suddenly, I heard her croak out, "Nigel… Uno… is that you?"

I could've screamed back then. I could've jumped around, kissing Rachel and hugging her over and over, but I felt it wasn't appropriate with the situation. "Rachel… do you…"

"… I was a monster." Rachel sank to the floor, sobbing. I saw her tears stain her blood-stained apron as she wept. "Nigel… in the asylum… I killed… I killed… the blood was across the grass… the essence was there for me to take…"

I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, but I knelt down and hugged her. "Tell me everything."

Rachel continued to cry, burying herself in my sleeve. "It was… a nightmare… I felt… like I was losing my mind… I was fighting a losing battle… against the Queen in my mind…"

"What Queen?" As far as I was concerned, Rachel was just a little girl trapped in an adult's body. Torn up and confused, thrust into the real world without so much as a warning. I had no idea what she meant by queen.

She choked, "Ever heard of the game American McGee's Alice?" I nodded at this before she continued, "It was like that… I was losing my mental battle… against the Queen… I was going to lose my mind, Nigel! Lose it to a fictional character who was the embodiment of my insanity! It didn't help that all I had was a kitchen knife…"

"Was it this one?" I picked up her knife.

She nodded. "The exact same one… the one I used… to stab the Queen… oh, it was horrible! I don't want to talk about it anymore!" Letting out a wail, I got the feeling that she had quite a story to tell me.

"You have to tell me. But first, let's get out of here." I glanced at the walls. "I've got the distinct feeling that they won't hold. Annie, you coming?"

Annie paused, unsure of whether to answer or not to interrupt the moment between us. "Annie will go with Mr. Uno and Miss McKenzie. Annie only wants to see Miss McKenzie happy again."

* * *

_The heat of my tongue_

_That let me speak_

_Has already cooled,_

_And I can't sing_

_Songs of love_

_Anymore…_

* * *

A few years had passed since then. I found that her family – including Harvey – had died in that fire. Good riddance to him, I would've said, but Rachel cared too much about him for me to insult him directly.

She had told me the entire story. When we told the police, they told us that the centaur she saw was actually London's most wanted criminal, who was famous for killing a family member then burning down the whole house for fun. Lucky for us, the man was locked up and behind bars, all explosives and flammable items out of his reach.

I had given her the locket after that; she looked pleased to own a lovely piece of jewelry again. We got her new clothes, but she told me never to wash the orange dress and apron combo, much to my surprise. She said it had good memories too, memories of avenging the fictional characters in her mind, so I decided to allow her to keep it in a plastic bag in her closet.

Along with that, I had proposed to Rachel. She agreed, and we got married in the early spring. We invited our friends from Cleveland, and, turns out, everyone ended up with everyone else. It was without a doubt that Kuki and Wally would end up – it was so obvious, even from childhood. Abby and Hoagie were the second unexpected pair, what with the cool girl and the joke-cracking nerd thing they had going in grade school. But what surprised us was Fanny and Patton, who still bickered like they used to, but did get along on certain terms.

After we got married and had our honeymoon, we decided to adopt Annie. She was, after all, only a wandering orphan who seemed to have the cunning ability to know just about everything you didn't want her to know. She was happy about it, but Rachel wanted her to at least change her third person speech, telling her it sounded too much like Abby.

There isn't much to say anymore. We visited the graves of her family multiple times to pay respects, and we occasionally visited the ruins of their once beautiful Oxford home with Annie and her new little brother, Ryan. Ryan was too young to understand what happened, but I've got a feeling Annie already understands. That little girl is a miracle, so to say.

"At least you're still alive, you know." I told Rachel, who had once again picked through the ruins to find some old things. Oh yeah, by the way, that bunny Annie was holding when we first met? That happened to be Rachel's toy as a child that survived the fire. Today, Rachel found a slightly burned book, its front and back cover burnt, but the pages burned only at the edges. "You could've not survived."

Rachel smiled at me. "You're right. But it still hurts."

"It always hurts." I told her as she walked over, book in hand. Annie took it from her hands and flipped through the pages, eyes widening when she saw a familiar illustration. "Daddy, Mommy, this is Alice in Wonderland!"

I smiled at Rachel. "What a coincidence, huh?"

"Coincidence indeed. It has grown curiouser and curiouser." Rachel only laughed as she took Annie's hand. Together, we walked back home, the leaves of autumn blowing behind us, going in and out of the windows of the once beautiful home of the McKenzies.

* * *

**Third Person POV**

* * *

Annie turned back a bit, then blinked as she saw a cat sitting on the windowsill of the burned down house.

She could've sworn it was grinning cheekily at her.

Annie acknowledged the cat, curtsying a bit, before Rachel asked, "Annie, who are you curtsying to?"

"I'm curtsying to the cat." Was the answer before she told her adoptive father, "Let's go now, Daddy."

Nigel nodded. "Come on, dear."

They walked off, but not before Rachel glanced back and saw the grinning cat. She smiled before mouthing, 'Thank you'. Then, she followed her family, turning a corner, and turning her back on her past once more.

The cat smiled before padding off, murmuring, "Lovely young maiden. Just like my Alice when she was in Rutledge herself..."

* * *

…

…

… _Still you do not answer…_


End file.
